Tamed By Your Desire Part 43

"Are you a virgin?"

She couldn't stop blubbering long enough to answer, but Ridley didn't care. He touched her shoulder, leading her to the tent flap.

"Go home to your father, Alice."

The girl's face was stricken as she stumbled from the tent. As soon as Gilford saw them he rushed forward, his face creased with misery. He took the girl's arm, turning her back toward Ridley. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her trembling lips turned down in an extremely unappealing manner.

"She does not please you? Tell me why and I'll do better next time."

"Pay her and remove her from my sight-and pray do not promise women magical cures to coerce them into compromising themselves."

He returned to the tent and paced the floor. d.a.m.n it all if he wasn't dead inside. The la.s.s was beautiful, young, fresh, and yet she'd stirred him not a bit. It was Mona. She'd bewitched him... ruined every other woman for him. He kicked the brazier over, scattering charred wood and embers across the carpet. He quickly stepped on them before it ruined the expensive weave. It was her-his stepmother-who made him do these things. She drove him to it.

He dreamed of her still. Before, they'd been dreams of lying with her, sinking himself into her soft white flesh while she moaned and writhed beneath him, the black silk of her hair twined about his wrists. But now... it was that Maxwell knight she'd run away with. He rutted on her and Ridley was helpless to do aught but watch. He would kill them all-every last Maxwell-for trying to thwart him.

But first Alexander Maxwell. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the missive off his table, reading the infantile request again. Fayth for the deed to Gealach. As if that piece of baggage was worth it. Carlisle was becoming something of a hindrance, wanting to at least discuss the possibility.

Ridley still hadn't decided how he would respond to Alexander's letter, but soon enough he would answer it with a sword in the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's throat.

He turned at the scratching on the tent flap. Gilford entered. Ridley was prepared to give him a tongue-lashing and perhaps even line his back, but Gilford was followed by another man bearing a familiar crest on his tunic.

"I come from His Grace, the Duke of Norfolk. The king has ordered troops a.s.sembled at York and your presence is required." The messenger stepped forward, unrolling a parchment bearing the king's seal. Ridley's eyes skimmed it, unseeing. The man rolled it up and stepped back.

It was as if he were dreaming. He'd planned and worked, made alliances with sc.u.m not fit to lick his boots, was to marry a fat Scotswoman, all in preparation for this day. This event.

Ridley stared at the messenger in disbelief, the blood quickening in his veins. It begins. The Clachan Fala was not yet in hand, but that mattered not at all, as it soon would be. Ridley had no doubt of it. There was still time. Negotiations would begin in York. They would drag on for weeks. Yes, he still had time to finish this business. He must have the Blood Stone before the invasion-it would keep him from harm and bring him glory on the battlefield. With it the king would refuse him nothing.

"Tell His Grace I will be along as soon as I collect my men who search for my lost sister and send word to my brother."

The messenger left. Ridley went to his writing desk. Wesley had been overlong on his latest task. Ridley quickly wrote his brother, detailing the situation and ordering him to wed Lady Anne by proxy and then return posthaste with his bride so he could bed the pig and be done with it. He then wrote another to Laird Johnstone. The Maxwells had many enemies, both English and Scottish, but besides the Grahams, their most vicious foe was their Scottish neighbors, the Johnstones. The Maxwells had been locked in deadly feud with them nearly as long as they'd been feuding with the Grahams. Because of this, Ridley had cultivated extremely useful friendships with several Johnstone clans.

When his letters were off, he left his tent and ordered camp to be broken down. He was being dressed in his raiding attire when Carlisle burst into his tent.

"What's this business of attacking Gealach?"

"I am required in York and so the games must end."

"No deal without the woman."

Ridley whirled around, grabbing the old man by the front of his doublet. "I have the matter in hand. She will be yours, as I've promised. Question me no more." He released Carlisle with a push.

The man stumbled back, his face purple with indignation.

Ridley turned away from him. "I have a man inside Gealach, working to free Fayth. Fash not."

Carlisle grunted, momentarily mollified. "Red Alex has more than enough men to defend Gealach."

"I have the situation in hand."

Carlisle's temper flared again, but he left, the strange fevered light still in his eyes. Ridley felt an unusual pang of unease for his sister, but pushed it away. It was no more than she deserved. She'd come uncomfortably close to ruining some of his plans. It was fitting punishment.

As Gilford dropped a shirt of mail over Ridley's head, and strapped on his greaves and shoulder plates, the tension began to build in his chest. Action. Finally, he could get on with this. Once he secured Gealach and bedded Lady Anne, he would head north, where the Clachan Fala-and Mona-waited for him. It would take the duke weeks to conscript and a.s.semble an army. The Scottish king would send representatives to try and negotiate, but it was formality. The situation had festered too long and King Henry would not be easily mollified. They were only buying time, and little did they know, giving Ridley the extra time he needed. He would be back at the border, Blood Stone in hand and alliances secure, in time to invade Scotland.

He smiled to himself as he left his tent and strode to his horse. Yes, he had everything in hand.

0="16"16.

FAYTH SIFTED through Alex's horde in one of the rooms below Gealach. She'd claimed she didn't like the gowns chosen for her and wanted new ones. Alex had given her permission to choose more-with Skelley guarding her, of course. Skelley rested in a chair near the door, Biddy at his feet. He'd tried to keep the dog in the larder, but she'd leaped through the hole, determined to follow Fayth on her adventures. Skelley grumbled about having to carry the dog back up the ladder later, but Fayth thought he secretly enjoyed Biddy. Skelley's hand dangled off the chair arm, toying with the dog's fur, and he chatted with her as if she were human. When he addressed a question to the dog, she stopped panting and looked up, as if listening intently to whatever he said.

The pair had become a fixture in Fayth's life the past few days. She knew that something was wrong. Why else would Alex set his closest friend to guard her all day, every day? But Skelley was tight-lipped about it and Alex had made himself scarce. Well, during the day he did. At night he sat on a bench outside her room, guarding her himself. He was more vigilant than Ridley. She would never escape from Gealach. She'd tried to devise ways to distract him, but had thus far been unsuccessful.

Fayth set aside another box that she'd hoped contained jewels. But it had contained naught by pearl necklaces and earbobs. It had seemed a clever idea at first. So far as Fayth knew, no one alive had ever seen the Clachan Fala-if it even existed. Fayth had heard stories and knew it was a ruby in a gold setting. If she could find something fitting that description, perhaps Ridley could be fooled.

Now, however, it didn't seem like such a fine idea. Though there were many coins and baubles and clothes, there was little valuable jewelry. Fayth looked around the room, hands on hips.

She was covered with filth, her hands, dress, and face. She'd found the mirror Alex had handed to her the last time they were down here and had decided to keep it. Fayth pressed her hand against her bodice, where she'd hidden it when Skelley wasn't looking.

"I'm hungry, la.s.s," Skelley said, coming to his feet. It was a hint that he was ready to leave the dank darkness.

"There's more than this, isn't there?"

"Just what are you looking for? I thought you only needed another gown?"

"I don't like any of these." She s.n.a.t.c.hed up the pearls. "They have to go with pearls."

Skelley sighed and paced out the door. His steps echoed along the corridor before coming back. Biddy hardly moved, lifting her head to watch him go, then stretching longer on the floor, her paws twitching.

Skelley reappeared. "There's more down here. Can we not come back after some dinner? This cold seeps into my bones."

Fayth nodded guiltily. Skelley's youthful days were long past, his thick beard streaked with gray, his eyes lined with age.

"Yes, let me just have a look in the other room. Maybe we won't need to come back at all." She took one of the candles and hurried past Skelley before he could stop her. He didn't follow, pulling his chair into the corridor and positioning it so he could watch the doorway. Biddy got to her feet and trotted at Fayth's side.

Fayth held the candle high as she entered the room. Trunks, chests, cabinets... there was even a bed frame, its ma.s.sive oak posts reaching into the darkness. Fayth wandered about the room, opening chests to survey the contents. This was plunder Alex had seized on raids, not pirate treasure. Her shoulders slumped. She would find nothing useful here.

At the doorway Biddy whined, low and uneasy. Fayth turned. The dog was poised on the threshold, staring into the blackness, the fur on her nape bristling. Fayth shivered, holding the candle before her and watching the shadowy figure of the dog.

"Biddy? What is it?"

The dog looked quickly over her shoulder at Fayth, then returned her attention to the door. She took several tentative steps forward. Fayth followed. By the time she reached the door, Biddy had advanced deeper into the pa.s.sage, a low growl rumbling from her chest. Fayth looked down the opposite way, where Skelley sat idly in his chair. When he noticed Fayth and Biddy he came to his feet.

Biddy's rumbling growl turned to a snarl threatening violence. Fayth jumped back as Skelley hurried to join them.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked.

Fayth shook her head, peering into the dark. She could hear nothing but far off dripping and a whine of wind through the tunnels. Biddy was almost out of sight when she sprang forward, melting into the darkness. They heard nothing for a full minute, then the corridors were filled with the guttural snarl of an attacking animal. Skelley seized Fayth's arm, dragging her back the way they'd come.

"What is it? What about Biddy?" Fayth cried, struggling to keep up. He'd grabbed her injured arm. It was all she could do to hold it steady so he didn't wrench it in his fervor to get her away.

At the ladder, Skelley shoved her up, his hands on her bottom, urging her to climb faster. Fayth was going as fast as she could, when she heard a horrible, high-pitched yelp, then nothing. Fayth remained poised, hand gripping the opening to the larder, eyes staring sightlessly into the dark. She'd lost her candle and the only light originated from the square of light above them.